


Home Alone was a Movie, Not an Alibi

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gratuitous use of movie quotes, M/M, fluffy and SO MANY FEELINGS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-04
Updated: 2012-11-04
Packaged: 2017-11-17 23:44:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/554515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts, as most things do, when Stiles tries to be a nice person and get Derek a job. It’s all downhill from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home Alone was a Movie, Not an Alibi

**Author's Note:**

> This is based a lot on the antics at my work between myself and my coworker.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I don’t have the time to watch all these movies and make sure each quote is exactly right; I have only my memory and what the internet tells me, so. If it’s a glaring error, please tell me—if it’s something small, let it be.

Stiles would like it noted in the record that he only got Derek the job at the video store because his dad was getting suspicious of a bunch of teenagers hanging out with a twenty-something year old man who had no job but a banging car and a seemingly endless supply of leather jackets.

People  _may_  claim that Stiles got the job for Derek  _specifically_  so they could work Friday and Saturday night shifts together, when business was oddly slow and the store eerily quiet and okay  _maybe_  Stiles was a little freaked out on those nights and sometimes worried for his well being. Especially if another bat-shit crazy alpha decided the video store was a good place to pick its next victim.

But really it was just so the Sheriff would stop asking so many questions about Derek.

And besides, no matter his reasoning, he was beginning to regret it anyways. Because the universe hated Stiles, that was quickly becoming a known fact.

)

The thing with the video store they work at—Videos Galore—isn’t like any of the others in town. The others in town are more or less flippant about customers and how the customers like what they put on; usually, like at Video Jest down the road, the girl and guy who work there will just bicker endlessly over what to put on before they just change it to some hipster radio station. Or, up the road and down a block at Videos & More, they won’t have anything playing.

But, no, it doesn’t work like that at Videos Galore. Nope, no sir, not a chance.

No, the  _customers_  get to pick the movie to put on. First come first serve: as soon as the movie playing ends, a customer can pipe up and tell them what to put in next.

)

Which is how Derek and Stiles continuously end up glancing at each other at all the wrong moments—like when their eyes meet accidentally when Shujuan asks  _“are you going to fall in love with me?”_  and John Miller answers, _“I already have.”_

They both reach for the receipt and their fingers brush just as Jerry is telling Dorothy  _“I love you. You… you complete me. And I just..”_  and Dorothy saying _“shut up, just shut up. You had me at hello.”_

Their faces both burn  _bright_  cherry red when they bump into each other, hands full of movies and a bag of popcorn, just as Christian insists that  _“love is a many splendored thing. Love lifts us up where we belong! All you need is love!”_

)

The customers really don’t help either. They all think it’s just the cutest thing. The  _sweetest_  thing that they’re watching things like  _As Good as It Gets_ together. Derek looks over with raised and angry eyebrows just as Melvin earnestly tells Carol,  _“you make me want to be a better man.”_  And if Derek excuses himself for his ten minute break, Stiles most certainly does not spend those ten minutes in a wondering haze of just what that look on Derek’s face meant.

)

One night, when it’s misleadingly slow, Stiles is left with the choice of what to watch—Derek never picks, no matter how much Stiles says he should. But, the choice is in Stiles’ hands and he picks something he thinks is safe, a comedy without  _too_ much romance.

But not even  _Scott Pilgrim vs The World_  spares him the embarrassment.

“Hey Derek—?” Stiles looks up, mouth open to pose a question.

Derek looks over with one eyebrow raised as Micheal Cera confesses,  _“I’m in lesbians with you.”_

)

When Derek  _does_  finally pick a movie to put on—another treacherously slow night where it’s either pick a movie or wallow in silence—he picks  _Moonrise Kingdom_.

Not long after the opening credits start, business picks up again, at a comfortable rate that leaves Stiles and Derek relaxed behind the counter but on alert. Stiles smirks and tugs at the rubber band around his wrist; he slides it off and takes careful aim, watching Derek’s profile as Derek watches the movie. It’s steadily drawing to what Stiles assumes must be the climax.

The rubber band whirs through the air with a soft noise, and collides with Derek’s face with the faintest of  _snaps_.

Derek growls and rounds on Stiles, reaching for the other bands around his wrists while Stiles topples off his stool and makes a beeline to jump over the counter.

“Honestly, boys,” an older woman quips, “I don’t know that this is appropriate work behavior.” Her eyes, though, hold a mischievous mirth.

Stiles tries to shake off the admittedly light choke-hold Derek has him in. Derek’s chest rumbles with the beginning of a sentence, but the movie cuts him off, with Suzy very seriously saying,  _“we’re in love, we just want to be together, what’s wrong with that?”_

Derek lets go of Stiles so fast that Stiles brains himself on the box of new releases and just lies on the floor, out of sight and out of mind and still flushed with embarrassment while Derek distracts himself by helping as many people as possible and failing horribly at it.

)

Stiles walks into work furious. “What the  _hell_ , Derek?”

Derek looks up from where he stands, eyes previously fixated on his shoes. He doesn’t even respond.

“You thought it was okay to tell me dad about this shit?” Stiles doesn’t even bother with a haphazard glance around the store—he can feel how empty it is.

Derek’s face settles into similar anger. “He deserved to know.”

Stiles makes a stressed and pitiful noise in the back of his throat. “He’s  _my_ family, it was  _my_  decision to bring him into this or not!”

At odds, with the counter between them, Stiles doesn’t let himself be deterred by Derek’s fanged snarl.

“Now he’s in  _more_  danger—!”

“You’re  _pack_ , he is  _pack_ , it was  _my_  decision and he deserved to  _know_.” Derek grabs the collar of Stiles’ sweatshirt, hauling him closer, up off his feet. “What if you  _died_. What if hunters got to you—or  _worse_. How would you explain it to him?”

Stiles shifts, uncomfortable and still angry, but wordless.

“He can help us and we can help him.” Derek growls. “It was the best choice.”

Stiles sniffles. He wipes at his eyes and lets out a furious exhale, vibrating with too much emotion and not enough Adderall.

Jake Gyllenhaal cuts across whatever they might’ve been about to say,  _“I wish I knew how to quit you!”_

Derek doesn’t drop Stiles this time, and he doesn’t run, but Stiles does fumble his way into the back to clock in and splash water onto his face.

)

A week later, after Stiles has—at his father’s request—taken a few days off so that they can spend time together, and commiserate over crazy werewolf bullshit, Stiles comes into work a half hour earlier than needed to get himself situated. He strolls behind the counter, grabs his till bag, and is about to start counting it out when he nearly knocks over the small vase set at his register.

He looks around, and leans forward to take a hesitant sniff.

He doesn’t die, so it’s probably safe.

He looks around again, and sets down the till bag to take the vase, with a single lone flower in it—a purple hyacinth—into his hands. “Uh.” He looks up to find Derek standing across the counter from him.

“I’m sorry.” Derek grits out, nodding to the flower.

Stiles pinks vibrantly. A regular, a younger woman with a moody teenage daughter, walks in and looks to the television. “Oh,  _Pride & Prejudice_, I love this movie!”

Stiles nods numbly, fingers still drumming against the vase.

“ _If, however, your feelings have changed, I will have to tell you: you have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love… I love… I love you. I never wish to be parted from you from this day on.”_

Stiles gulps noisily, and simply nods again.

)

Jackson and Lydia come in a lot; well, rather, Jackson comes in and Lydia waves from the car outside. Stiles waves back just as Jackson walks up. He tosses a movie onto the counter. “Put this on so I can tell her it’s already checked out.”

Stiles wants to say no,  _so so_ badly he wants to tell Jackson no. But more than that, the pack has agreed they need to wain Lydia off her addiction to _The Notebook_ , so he does put it on.

Jackson leaves not long after, and Lydia throws a small tantrum—Derek tells Stiles that Lydia insists they find it on Netflix or OnDemand instead, and Stiles doubles over laughing. But then it gets too busy to take  _The Notebook_  off, and by the time either of them have a chance to get to the DVD player, Noah is knee deep in a monologue.

“ _… We’re gonna have to work at this every day, but I want to that because I want you. I want all of you, forever, you and me, everyday… But don’t you take the easy way out.”_

Stiles fumbles, mashing his fingers against buttons to get the fucking DVD out, and trips once he’s got it in the case, landing at Derek’s feet.

Derek stares back down at him, and wordlessly offers a helping hand to stand.

“Thanks, yeah, thanks.” Stiles brushes dirt off his clothes, and holds up the movie—hitting Derek in the nose with it. Derek grunts and holds a hand to his throbbing nose, and Stiles leans in, “sorry, shit, shit shit, sorry, oh my god, are you okay?”

A moment of silence lapses over them, before someone clears their throat. “Aren’t you two cute.” Stiles looks over briefly to see a small family at the counter, waiting. Stiles swallows, and meets Derek’s eyes—they’re pressed close together, one of Stiles’ hands on Derek’s face and one of Derek’s hands almost resting on Stiles’ neck.

Stiles throws himself away from Derek so fast that he lands in the owner’s dog bed in the corner right on a squeaker toy—which, if nothing else, has Derek and the kids erupting in laughs.

)

Stiles rests his forehead on the cool of the counter. Derek walks in with the chime of the door, and stops. “Something wrong?”

“Lydia’s too good for Jackson.”

Derek almost  _audibly_  rolls his eyes, and hurries around the counter.

“Scott deserves better than Alison.”

Derek just hmphs in response.

“Why are my friends so stupid.” Stiles moans against the counter, hitting his head against it a few times. “How is it fair that they have the chance to be with someone and they all royally fuck it up. How is that okay?” He sits up and looks imploringly at Derek. “It’s not fair.”

“You have the chance too.”

Stiles snorts. “Right, yeah, because people are just lining up to date me.”

Derek furro his eyebrows. “Stiles, you have the chance just as much as anyone else.”

“I have the chance but not the  _means_.” Stiles emphasizes, sitting up. “I’m not like Scott or Jackson, I’m not hot or smooth. I’m awkward. I’m like, new born deer awkward. New born  _giraffe_  awkward.” He sighs and collapses against the counter again.

“Stiles…”

“ _You should be kissed, and often, by someone who knows how._ ” Rhett says, effectively placing a flush on Derek’s face.

Stiles watches the way Derek fumbles with his till, the pens, and computer for the next hour, his own face pink but a smile hidden behind his arms.

)

“Dad?” Stiles squawks, dropping the cleaning cloth and knocking over the spray bottle.

“Hey kiddo.”

“You’re not on duty?”

“It’s gonna be a late night at the station, so Cadwell asked me to pick up a movie for her kid.”

Stiles grins. “A Stiles Part Deux in the making?”

Sheriff shakes his head. “We can only hope.”

“The kids section is just right back there.” Stiles points to the far right corner, and his dad salutes him.

Sheriff walks back, trailing a finger across the covers, humming. He looks away and sees Derek crouched, placing  _Tangled_  and  _Toy Story_  back. “Derek.”

“Sheriff.” Derek answers calmly.

“Keeping my son safe, right?”

“Of course.” Derek answers, a light pink tinging his cheeks.

Sheriff smirks. “I’ve got a nine year old boy waiting back at the station, what’s a good movie for him?”

Derek looks stricken, and looks at the family shelf in front of him and the kids shelf behind him. “Uh, I don’t really..  _Cars_?”

“ _Cars_  is great, dad! He’d love it!” Stiles shouts from across the store.

“ _Cars_  it is, then.”

Derek nods and reaches for it, handing it over. “Sheriff, sir, I—?”

“ _What I really want to do with my life—what I want to do for a living—is I want to be with your daughter. I’m good at it.”_

Derek’s mouth snaps shut with a harsh click of teeth. Sheriff laughs. “ _Say Anything_ , such a classic.” He says with a smirk. He nods though, without a word, and claps Derek on the shoulder before turning back and calling to Stiles, “hey kiddo, does this mean I get to rent for free?”

)

They aren’t supposed to be in here. The store is supposed to be closed, and it was. Until Stiles and Derek found themselves stumbling around town, bloody and more than a little bruised after an unfortunate but successful run in with a murder of shape-shifting crow-people.

After Stiles has gotten the door open, they topple inside, crawling until they’re in the open space between the Children’s section and the Action section.

“Are you okay?”

Derek grunts.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Stiles asks, voice caught in a pained laugh.

“Sure.” Derek grunts again.

Stiles stumbles his way through the action section, grabs the first  _Lord of the Rings_ , and puts it in before hobbling back to Derek. He sits a little closer than strictly necessary, and they both doze off while the movie plays.

Stiles blinks and looks up at Derek, who looks back down at him. “You okay?” He asks again.

Derek nods, and it’s then that Stiles realizes the arm across his shoulders is Derek’s, and that they’re pressed up together, sides touching.

Stiles grins faintly, and ignores the crusting of blood in his hair and the crow-people guts on Derek’s jacket.

“ _… And to that I hold. I would rather share one lifetime with you than face all the ages of this world alone… I choose a mortal life.”_

“ _You cannot give me this.”_

“ _It is mine to give to whom I will. Like my heart.”_

Stiles falls asleep, safe and secure, to the sound of Derek’s breathing.

)

“Derek, I really think we should talk about this.”

“There’s not much to talk about, Stiles.”

“ _There’s not much to—_ Derek! Are you stupid! There’s so much to talk about I could write a three part series detailing just  _my_  thoughts on this.”

Derek growls. “Stiles, we need to be professional.”

“Screw professional! No one is gonna come in, it’s almost ten.”

Derek sets his jaw in a firm, irritated line.

“C’mon Derek, what’re you so scared of? Why can’t we have this?”

Derek, in true fashion, grips Stiles by the collar of his shirt and half-heartedly slams the kid against the wall. “Stiles, you don’t  _understand—!_ ”

“ _Me? I’m scared of everything. I’m scared of what I saw, I’m scared of what I did, of who I am, and most of all I’m scared of walking out of this room and never feeling the rest of my whole life the way I feel when I’m with you.”_

Stiles gulps, and his hands find purchase on the sleeves of Derek’s leather jacket. “Yeah?”

“Stiles, that wasn’t—I’m not—we can’t—?”

Stiles grins. “We can.” He assures. He leans a little closer, and Derek lets him sink a bit, until his toes can touch the ground. “We  _can_.”

And they do.

)

Stiles would like it noted that they try hard not to let too much PDA affect their work process. But it’s hard—Sheriff insists that any time Derek comes over, by window or front door, he should stay for dinner, and he also insists that they all bond by watching movies together in the living room, leaving no alone time for them. The rest of the pack has taken to calling Stiles pack mom and that Derek is pack dad and that watching the two of them be cutesy or affectionate in anyway is decidedly gross, like watching your parents do it.

Besides, the customers at work love it, they think it’s just so  _cute_.

“Have a happy Christmas, and a merry new year!” Stiles calls after a customer as the door chimes on their way out.

Business is steady, as the weekend before Christmas usually is, but not too terribly rapid. The line of customers eventually thins, leaving just groups of families and friends wandering about the store. Once they’re free of manning the registers, Derek comes up behind Stiles and gathers him in a hug. “Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Please, Erica let someone play  _Rocky Horror Picture Show_  and Isaac let someone put on  _Saw_  one time. I think we’re fine.” Stiles’ fingers drum on the _Love, Actually_  case idly. “Besides, it’s a classic.”

“ _But you know, the thing about romance is… people only get together right at the very end.”_


End file.
